


Waking Up

by olivejuice28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Coworkers to friends, EWE, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Magical Injury, Mutual Pining, Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: Draco realizes all he ever wanted has been right in front of him this whole time.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 31
Kudos: 320





	Waking Up

_Something was wrong._

_Something had happened._

_Something… big._

These muddled yet insistent thoughts swam through the fog of Draco’s brain as he tried to comprehend his current situation. Everything was dark and heavy and he felt like he was suspended in some sort of thick, but not exactly uncomfortable void. He was almost sure he was laying on a surface, but he couldn’t actually feel anything. He also couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed, or if he still had the ability to hear or speak. Considering these fundamental questions exhausted him, and he was about to drift off to sleep, or at least what he assumed was sleep, as fragmented images flashed across his mind.

_Minister Shacklebolt’s stern face._

_A grungy, leering man in prisoner’s garb._

_Potter’s alarmed expression._

_A blinding purple light._

That last recollection was accompanied by a searing pain in his right temple and he felt his muscles seize with excruciating force before the world went completely black once more.

ooOoo

_An explosion._

_A bomb had gone off in the courtroom._

That single piece of the puzzle clicked into place as Draco emerged from his unconscious haze again. Everything was still shadowed and silent, but the pain was gone and he thought he could just barely make out the pressure of a very light material over his arms and legs. A sheet perhaps, or a blanket. The tactile awareness didn’t reach his hands and feet yet, but he considered it progress nonetheless.

He tried to decipher something, anything that might give a clue as to where he was, but the inky black surrounding him gave nothing away, nor was he able to turn his head or make sounds to test his hearing. He wondered what spell or curse had been used, what kind of magic had been wielded to render him so incapacitated. Hermione would know; she always…

_Hermione._

_Hermione had been in the courtroom._

He felt his heart rate spike as another agonizing slice of pain tore into his head, felt his spine arch off whatever surface he lay on, and then, nothing.

ooOoo

His third journey back to the land of the living, for he was positive he was still alive, took a little longer. Perhaps his body was afraid of yet another onslaught of agony, or maybe there had been more damage inflicted, but whatever the cause he felt like he’d been run over by the Knight Bus several times in a row.

He was still in the dark, both literally and figuratively since he had no real idea where he was or what had happened, and all he could glean from his current state was that he’d been hit with something incredibly powerful. The good news was that his fingers and toes were experiencing the merest ghost of a tingling sensation, like the last vestiges one would shake off after a limb had fallen asleep. This was good because it meant he still had all of his extremities. He was also pleased to note he could identify a mattress beneath him, a blanket on top of him, and a pillow behind his head, which was slightly raised. These new observations comforted him, even if he still couldn’t communicate in any way, nor did he know if he would ever be able to.

Sleep beckoned again, and as he welcomed it’s peaceful embrace, his mind conjured a pair of warm, whiskey-colored eyes, a head of riotous, mahogany curls, and the most perfect pair of pink lips. He thought he might have smiled, if that was possible.

ooOoo

Draco didn’t know what he’d dreamt about, or if he even had, but he resurfaced with a warm, happy feeling resonating within him, and the scent of sugary peaches teasing his nose. He recognized that smell and immediately thought of those same brown eyes as before.

_Hermione._

He forced himself not to panic, as he really had no desire to endure another round of internal torture, and calmly tried to remember the scene just seconds before it all apparently went to hell.

_He had been standing at the edge of the prosecution’s table, closest to the accused’s chair in the center of the floor. Hermione had been to his left, rifling through their files. Shacklebolt was behind the podium, and Potter in the witness box. A question had just been asked, and as he had offered clarification, Hermione pulled a parchment out and brought it over to the court scribe, who was seated behind and to the left of the Minister. She had been several yards away when the prisoner had muttered something, and Draco’s gaze had flickered to the convict before glancing up at Potter. Those emerald eyes had flown wide, and a warning shout had been issued, but it was too late._

While the memory offered no information about what actually took place, it did give him a sense of relief that Hermione was most likely far enough away so as to have avoided serious injury. At least he was going to cling to that conclusion until proven otherwise. The thought of something happening to her…

_She was fine._

_She had to be fine._

_She had to be._

ooOoo

The next time Draco came to, it was to the muffled sound of voices reaching him as if through a wall. The proof that he could hear sent such a wave of relief crashing over him, he was sure he’d have fallen over if he’d been standing. There were multiple people talking, and while he couldn’t make out any actual words or recognizable tones, he eventually deduced there were two females and one male speaking somewhere nearby. The cadence was unhurried, and seemed conversational, not argumentative or heated, which helped him relax further. He was starting to get annoyed with his inability to fully assess his current state, but knowing people were around, and that the feel of the room was calm and stable helped keep his panic at bay.

He wondered if one of the voices belonged to Hermione. He hoped it did, though he had no reason to believe that was the case. They were coworkers, of course, and he knew she considered him a friend, miraculous as that might seem. They had always been equally matched when it came to intellect and academics, but in more recent months, he’d been drawn to her for vastly different reasons.

_One minute they were finalizing their report for a recently-closed case, trading quips about courtroom etiquette with amicable snark, and the next he was staring at her lips as they pursed in mock indignation, wondering what it would be like to kiss them. He’d been so shocked by that thought, he’d not even responded when she compared his snide remark to the witness with the manners of a garden gnome. Instead, he’d forced a chuckle and pretended to have forgotten something, giving him an excuse to run out the door as quickly as possible._

That moment had changed everything for him; had brought his attention to every aspect and nuance of the amazing, beautiful, compassionate witch he shared an office with, and every day from then on had only served to enamor him further. She had no idea, of course, but the more time went by, the harder he fell, to the point where he hadn’t so much as glanced at another witch in almost a year.

From the hazy corners of his muted consciousness, he thought he heard her voice. Whether imagined or real, it sent a coil of warmth wrapping around his heart and he let out a sigh as sleep claimed him once again.

ooOoo

_She was laughing._

_Smiling up at him as if he’d hung the moon._

_Her hand reached up to caress the side of his face._

_He leaned into her touch as she faded from view._

For the first time in Merlin-knew how long, since this seemingly never ending cycle of weighty darkness and silent sleep had begun, Draco was actually irritated to wake up. Or, as awake as he was capable of being at any rate. He’d been dreaming about Hermione, as clearly as if she’d been standing right in front of him, but when he opened his eyes, he was greeted with the now-familiar blank expanse of nothingness.

_Wait._

_He had opened his eyes._

_He could blink._

He repeated the action several times in rapid succession, a combination of panic and elation coursing through him and he forced himself to calm down. He could blink, but he still couldn’t see, so did that mean he was blind? His heart was now thundering hard enough for him to physically feel its pulsating rhythm at the thought of being forced to exist in total darkness from here on out. He felt the corners of his eyes burn and his throat constrict, and just as he was about to give in to a complete come-apart, he noticed something.

Far away, it seemed the darkness lessened at a central point, as if there was a horizon out there that the sun still was hours away from rising up to meet, but the barest hint of its rays were cutting through the oppressive midnight. He blinked multiple times, but the tentative glimmer remained. Eased out of his despair by this heartening evidence that he was moving in the right direction, he closed his eyes and focused on listening to the sounds around him.

There were voices again, this time one male and one female, and he was quite sure the male’s was familiar. He strained to hear more clearly, but after only a few seconds, a throbbing pain started to build in his temple and he immediately stopped. Instead, he attempted the opposite, telling himself to relax and focus solely on the lulling pattern of the conversation taking place. It was louder, or closer, he wasn’t sure, though still not anything that made him feel worried or fearful. He took that as another good sign; that he wasn’t in any imminent danger, and that they were monitoring him and making sure he was cared for.

Suddenly he felt a pressure on his hand, as if something wrapped around it. He tried to move his fingers to see if he could determine what it was, but to no avail. The touch was gentle, and soothing, and seemed to connect straight to his heart. He had a fleeting thought that perhaps this would be what holding Hermione’s hand would feel like, and decided he would make sure to find out someday, before he dozed off again.

ooOoo

It didn’t seem like as much time had passed when he resurfaced. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel seemed to be brighter, and the darkness less looming. The sounds that met his ears were much crisper and clearer, as if wads of cotton had been removed, and he could identify several things at once.

_Papers were being shuffled._

_People were walking by, probably in the hall outside his room._

_Two people were in the room with him, one much closer to him than the other._

“All of his vitals are exactly at the levels they should be, and the latest scan shows only a minimal trace of the curse still in his system,” a woman (he assumed a healer) explained in a quiet, patient tone from the foot of the bed.

“But then why hasn’t he woken up yet? Or given any indication that he’s aware?”

_Hermione._

_She was right beside him, and she sounded worried._

_She was safe and unharmed._

_She was here._

He wanted to tell her he could hear her, that he was trying to get back to her, but he couldn’t. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t force his muscles to move, or his voice to sound, but before he worked himself up overmuch, the healer continued.

“It can take a long time to wake up from a magically induced coma. We’d had him under quite deeply, due to the extent of the damage, for over a week. It’s only been lifted for three days, and he hasn’t had any complications since the first. I know it might not seem like it, but that really is substantial progress.” He could hear the kindness in her voice and appreciated her outlook for him. It did not, however, ease his frustration over not being able to communicate with the witch by his side.

The healer shifted her papers again and said she’d be by in a few hours before leaving the room and closing the door quietly behind her. As soon as it clicked into place, he felt a soft, warm hand wrap around his own and his heart leapt at the knowledge that it was Hermione’s. The very next second, however, his heart all but stopped when he heard a quiet sob escape the petite brunette beside him.

_Why is she crying?_

Draco had only seen the Brightest Witch of the Age cry twice in the years since leaving school. Once, out of happiness for Potter and his new bride on their wedding day, and one other time in sorrow, when she told him her cat had died. He’d made a bumbling attempt to console her by handing her a tissue and offering to get her whatever she needed; some chocolate, a firewhiskey, a new book, even a new cat. His efforts had earned him a watery chuckle and a shy smile after she gave him a hug and thanked him for cheering her up.

Oh, how he wanted to do that again now. He hated the thought of her in tears, and especially because of him. He didn’t understand why she’d succumbed to it though, since the healer clearly thought he’d be fine in a matter of time.

“You have to wake up,” a broken whisper jolted him out of his musings, “You have to, Draco. I c-can’t… I never…” The sobs increased, making her words more difficult to understand, “I’ve been s-so stupid, s-such a c-coward…”

Now he was truly confused. Even before they had made amends, he’d never in his life considered her to be anything other than staggeringly intelligent and ridiculously brave. The thought that she would consider herself less so caused a lead weight to settle in his gut. He could hear her trying to steady her breathing, and her grip on his hand tightened before she continued.

“I n-never got a chance to t-tell you… I don’t w-want… You can’t leave m-me,” her words were shattering his heart to bits and he desperately wanted to reassure her that he wasn’t going anywhere. He had no idea she’d grown so attached to him, and was floored by how much their friendship seemed to mean to her, but her next words took his breath away.

“I love you, Draco, and I d-don’t know if you’ll ever feel anything f-for me… But I c-can’t exist in a w-world without you,” her choked confession tore at his heart and he felt tears building in his own eyes.

_She loved him._

As much as he tried to fight it, as badly as he wanted to stay present in that moment, sleep overcame him as her words replayed over and over in his mind.

ooOoo

“Hermione, you really do need to go home for a bit, get some rest.”

_That was Potter’s voice._

_Hermione was still here._

_How long had she been here?_

“I want to be here when he wakes up, Harry. I need to see that he’s okay,” her voice wobbled at the end and he could tell she was close to tears again. He hated it. He felt his eyes burn and blinked furiously only to find a pale, cloudy film now pressing in on him. It felt suffocating compared to the wide, black space he’d previously beheld and couldn’t account for the difference for several seconds before it dawned on him.

_A bandage._

_His eyes had been covered with a bandage._

_Which he could now see._

He was ecstatic over this latest development, but still unable to speak. He couldn’t even clear his throat, and after several unsuccessful tries he huffed a great sigh, which apparently was heard by the two people nearby.

“Harry! Did you hear that? Did you see? He took a deep breath. Like a really deep one!” Hermione’s excitement came out in a hoarse whisper, as if she was afraid to announce it any louder, lest it was a fluke.

“I did,” the Chosen One responded gently, “I’ll go get Healer Woolbright to have her come check him.”

Hermione’s hand was once again in his, and Draco wanted nothing more than to squeeze it and give her some sort of confirmation that he was there. She didn’t seem to need any, however, as she stroked the side of his face with her other hand and carded her fingers through his hair.

“Please come back to me,” she whispered, “I promise I’ll make your tea every day from now on, and I’ll stop trying to make you watch Muggle movies, and I’ll buy takeaway from your favorite place as often as you want.” He could hear the smile behind her words, though her voice was thick with emotion, “Please, just come back, Draco.”

He didn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing her say his name. They were still most often “Malfoy” and “Granger” to one another, but every once in a while, first names were employed and it always sent a thrilling shiver up his spine when she used his. He supposed that made him a sap, but he honestly couldn’t care less, and if the fates decided to gift him a full recovery, he’d spend the rest of his days showing this incredible woman just how much he loved and adored her.

Potter returned with the healer then, and he listened as Hermione anxiously explained what they’d witnessed. The older witch agreed that was a good sign and he felt the cool sensation of a diagnostic spell cast upon him. He was sure it had been done many times since he’d been brought in, but this was the first time he’d actually been able to feel it. Aside from a very dull ache in his right temple, no other part of his physical body gave even the slightest twinge.

“The curse seems to be completely gone,” Healer Woolbright stated happily, “And though there is no way to guarantee this, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Malfoy woke up sometime within the next twelve hours or so.”

“That’s terrific news,” Harry blew out a relieved breath and Draco was mildly touched by the fact that his former-nemesis-now-friend had been so concerned about him. He heard a small sniff from right next to his shoulder and knew Hermione was battling her emotions again. The healer left, and he heard Harry come around the bed and approach his curly-haired best friend.

“He’s going to be fine, Hermione.”

A shuddering breath was inhaled and let out slowly, “I know. I just…” she sniffed again and Draco guessed from the rustling of fabric that Potter had wrapped Hermione in a much-needed hug. While he would have preferred it to be his own arms embracing her, he appreciated that someone was able to offer comfort, since he loathed the fact that she was still upset.

“I suppose there’s no convincing you to go home now, is there?” Harry joked and a muffled sound of protest was heard in response. “At least go get something to eat. I’ll hang out here, so he won’t be alone. It will take you ten minutes,” a reluctant sigh filled the air, followed by several sniffs and a resigned huff.

“Okay, I’ll run down to the café, but then I’m coming back and I’m staying,” her determination was punctuated by a tight squeeze to his hand before she let go. The door had barely closed behind her when Harry plopped down in a nearby chair and heaved a deep breath.

“You’d better wake up soon, Malfoy,” he started, but there was absolutely no malice behind his words, only concern. “Hermione’s been here every single day. At first, she would pop in before work, and again on her way home, while you were still in a coma. But once they lifted it? She’s basically lived here for almost four days straight now. She’s barely eating, I doubt she’s sleeping, and I’ve never seen her so worried.” The hero of the Wizarding World sighed again and shifted in his seat, “She loves you, you know. I’m not sure when it started, or how, or Godric help me, _why_ , but she is head over heels for you and when you get out of here, you’d better be nice to her or I’ll hex you into a million pieces and feed you to Buckbeak.” Harry chuckled at his own threat and Draco wished he could join in with him; wished he could tell the messy-haired wizard he had nothing to worry about.

“In all seriousness, I really do hope you snap out of this soon. We all miss you, though I will never admit that to your face, so if you can’t hear me right now, you’ve missed your chance. Just… just come back to us, yeah?” At that moment, the door opened and Harry stood up so Hermione could reclaim her bedside vigil. The pair exchanged a few more words before saying goodbye, and then it was just the star-crossed couple once again.

“I grabbed a magazine in the gift shop,” Hermione told him as she unwrapped what he assumed was a sandwich and settled in to eat her dinner and keep him company by reading various articles from the latest edition of _Witch Weekly_. While he had absolutely no interest in the most recent society drivel, he let the pleasant sound of her voice lull him to sleep in a matter of minutes.

ooOoo

Draco blinked his eyes and adjusted to the sight of the white bandages resting across the bridge of his nose. He realized he could actually see the tiny squares that made up the strip of cotton gauze now. He inhaled deeply and recognized the sweet, fruity scent of Hermione’s shampoo nearby and knew she hadn’t moved from her designated spot, though he assumed she was asleep since his change in breathing pattern hadn’t garnered a response. He heard her shift in her chair and automatically turned toward the sound when he froze.

_He could move his head._

For the first time since he’d regained any sort of consciousness, he was able to actually move a part of his body. He wondered if that meant he could move other parts as well, and decided to risk a return of the stabbing pain from days ago by lifting the fingers of his left hand. They barely cleared the blanket, but it was enough.

_It worked._

_He could move his hand._

He cautiously attempted to wiggle his toes and was delighted to find they obeyed his silent command, albeit stiffly. His knees were less inclined to behave and didn’t seem to want to raise themselves from the bed, but he knew better than to be discouraged. His right hand proved just as minimally mobile as his left, and he was able to shrug his shoulders a fraction of an inch. This small physical inventory left him completely worn out, but immensely pleased and he dozed off again, excited about what might be improved the next time he woke up.

ooOoo

“I don’t know if you remember this,” Hermione’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, “But the day you tried to cheer me up after Crookshanks died? That was the day I knew I loved you.” She gave a small chuckle, “You were clearly uncomfortable, but you made the effort anyway, and that’s exactly how you’d been ever since we were assigned as partners. I saw the changes you were making, the new direction you were going with your life, and I was so proud of you, so impressed by you.”

Draco had awoken to the sound of her words and it had taken him a heartbeat or two to register what she was saying. He was afraid to give any indication that he was listening, in case it caused her to stop.

She paused as if gathering her thoughts before continuing, their fingers intertwined, her thumb tracing random patterns on the back of his hand. “But that day? There was a softness to you I’d never seen before and I realized that the respect and admiration I’d held for you, the friendship we’d built up over the last couple of years, it had all turned to something much more. I’ve just been afraid to say anything, to ruin what we already have. But this? Almost losing you?” Her voice hitched and she took several seconds to bring her emotions under control, “I realized I can’t keep pretending that being your friend, your coworker, your litigation partner, is enough anymore. I just hope you don’t hate me once I tell you.” She chuckled wryly and he wanted so very badly to tell her he could never, ever hate her.

“I just want you to wake up. I want to hear your voice, and see you smile. I just… I just want you back,” she punctuated this plea with a squeeze of her hand which he returned on instinct, startling them both by the strength behind it.

“Draco?” she breathed with hopeful caution and he turned his face towards her, earning a gasp and another squeeze, which he again echoed.

“Oh, Draco, if you really can hear me, can you squeeze my hand one more time?”

He complied and she squealed, pressed a kiss to his forehead and sprinted to the door while hollering for the healer before she’d even got it properly open. He would’ve laughed if he could. In mere seconds, Hermione came barreling back into the room, a healer from the night shift right on her tail. He felt a different, larger hand take hold of his left one and an unfamiliar voice spoke.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m Healer Donovan. If you can hear me, please squeeze my hand.”

Draco did as requested and heard Hermione’s sharp intake of breath near his right shoulder.

“Excellent,” the healer announced. “I’m going to remove the bandages from your eyes now, and your vision might be a little blurry, but it’s nothing to be alarmed about. Squeeze my hand if you understand what I just said.”

Draco complied again and Healer Donovan returned his grip before letting go of his hand so as to set about removing the strips of gauze. Hermione’s hand had tightened around his right one and he could feel her shaking beside him. The soft light from the room grew brighter as the layers of material disappeared and he closed his eyes as the last one was carefully lifted.

Slowly, he blinked and the space around him came into focus. Healer Donovan, a stocky, middle-aged man with a kind face stood to his left, watching him carefully for any signs of distress. He turned and his gaze locked on the tear-streaked face of the most beautiful witch in the world.

_Hermione._

Her left hand was still entwined with his right, but the fingers of her right hand were tightly pressed against her trembling lips, clearly trying to hold herself together as she searched his face for confirmation that he was alright. He still couldn’t speak, couldn’t even hum or make any sort of audible noise, but he nodded once and the corners of his mouth tipped up in as much of a smile as he could manage, his eyes never leaving hers. She let out a strangled sob and leaned over, burying her face in the crook of his neck and wrapping her right arm across his chest, gripping his shoulder as if she’d never let go.

Healer Donovan busied himself with making notes on his clipboard and running another diagnostic spell, giving Hermione’s tears a chance to subside before he addressed his patient once more.

“Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy,” he said with a smile that Draco returned weakly, “If you could nod or shake your head in answer to a few questions, I promise I’ll be brief.” The pale blonde nodded once. “Very good. Does your vision seem normal to you?” A nod. “And how about your hearing?” Another nod. “Can you speak?” He shook his head in a tight, jerky motion, his brows furrowing in concern. “It’s nothing to worry about, I assure you. Different senses and abilities return at different times, but it is clear you are well on your way to a full recovery,” Healer Donovan reassured him. “Just a few more queries, then.” Over the next minute or two, Draco was asked to wiggle his fingers and toes, flex his ankles and wrists, and lift his arms and legs. The last request was the least successful, with only his forearms able to rise above the mattress, but again, the healer was optimistic and unconcerned, saying he was quite certain those activities would be achievable by the end of the day. His last question was whether or not Draco was hungry, which he most definitely was, and Healer Donovan promised to have something soft and easy to swallow sent up right away, even though it was the middle of the night.

As the door closed behind the older wizard, Draco let his eyes rest on the witch beside him who had sat quietly through the exam, only letting go of his hand when absolutely necessary. She was looking at him almost timidly now, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He arched a brow in silent question and she chewed on her lip, her chocolate orbs darting between his slate-grey ones.

“Do you…do you need anything?” she asked nervously, “Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head and squeezed her hand a little tighter. She glanced down at their interlaced fingers and he watched as her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.

“Do you remember anything? From while you were asleep or unconscious or…” she trailed off, still refusing to meet his stare. He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb and she dragged her gaze to his. He offered a lopsided smile and nodded, blinking slowly as his eyelids were feeling rather heavy all of a sudden. She must have seen the exhaustion settling over him, after exerting himself more in those last five minutes than he had in almost two weeks, and smiled softly while gently brushing his fringe back and stroking his cheek.

“You should rest for a bit,” she suggested, and almost immediately sleep claimed him once more.

ooOoo

The next time Draco woke up, he felt more like himself than he had so far throughout the whole ordeal. The first thing he noticed was that Hermione had scooted her chair as close to the side of the bed as possible, and had laid her head on the blanket near his elbow. Their hands were still clasped and he could tell by the sound of her steady breathing that she was sound asleep. The second thing he noticed was that his nose itched and without a moment’s thought, he reached up with his free hand to scratch it. Mid-scratch his eyes widened as he realized he had successfully lifted his entire arm. Carefully, so as not to wake the object of his affection, he stretched it out all the way to the left, rotated his wrist, bent his elbow, and even raised it up in the air, determining that yes, he really did have full range of motion restored. His elation built further when he chanced bending his knees and lifting his legs off the mattress the few inches he could, given the way the blanket was tucked in at the end.

Though quite pleased with his accomplishments, he knew he’d be wiped out from the exertion if he kept it up, and decided to simply enjoy being awake and in the presence of the woman who’d owned his heart for longer than she could possibly imagine. He was impatient for her to wake up so he could see her face and hear her voice, but he wasn’t about to disturb her. He still couldn’t believe she’d been there for days on end, constantly by his side. He knew there were conversations that needed to take place, and as soon as he regained his voice, he planned to tell her exactly how he felt. Curious about that particular ability, he quietly attempted to clear his throat. The sound that emerged was more like a high-pitched groan than anything he’d typically produce, but it was audible nonetheless and though nowhere near normal volume, it was enough to stir Hermione from her slumber.

She sat up slowly, blinked sleepily a few times, and as soon as her gaze landed on his alert visage, her eyes flew wide and the blush reappeared on her cheeks.

“Draco! You’re awake!” she hopped out of her chair and looked frantically around the room. At some point during their nap, the food Healer Donovan had promised had been delivered and was sitting on a small table under the window. Hermione started towards the tray containing jello, pudding, and something that looked like scrambled eggs, but he grabbed her hand, causing her head to whip back around to him, her brow furrowed in concern.

“What? Aren’t you hungry? Do you need something else?” she looked ready to bombard him with questions and he huffed a small laugh and tugged her back to him, forcing her to retrace the few steps she’d taken towards the end of the bed. Her expression held a mix of worry and confusion as he slowly lifted their entwined hands up, pressing her fingers to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. Those whiskey-colored orbs widened and a look of hopeful desperation flit across the features he’d dreamt about for months on end.

“Draco?” his name was a whisper, a question, a promise.

She sat down on the side of the bed, studying his face. He brought his other hand up to gently graze his knuckles down her cheek, reveling in the way she leaned into his touch. His fingers traveled around the back of her neck, sinking into her curls. Applying the slightest amount of pressure, he beckoned her forward and she willingly complied, her warm brown eyes darting between his pewter grey ones and his mouth in rapid succession. Her free hand fisted the front of his hospital gown and for a split second they were mere centimeters apart, their noses almost touching. He saw the moment her nerves and apprehension vanished, only to be replaced with fiery determination, and in the next heartbeat, her lips were pressed to his.

She was careful at first, perhaps afraid he was still too injured, or worried she’d cause him pain, but her kisses were soft and light and just as she seemed like she was pulling away, he shifted and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he angled his head and deepened the connection. Her hands traveled up his arms, across his shoulders, and into his hair, and if he could have, he would have released a positively feral sound. Her touch left a trail of fire in its wake, and he was completely lost in the sugary-sweet scent of her, the feel of her in his arms, and the realization that this was actually happening.

When they finally did break apart, both flushed and wide-eyed and panting, Hermione raised trembling fingers to her lips, tears clinging to her lower lashes and he hoped to Merlin they were happy ones. Borrowing a bit of her Gryffindor bravery, he cupped her face between his hands and rasped out the three most important words he’d ever said.

“I love you.”

It was a croaky, unattractive whisper, but it was enough to send her crashing back into him, kissing him without any reservation whatsoever, pushing him back into the pillows and pressing against him as close as her perch on the side of the bed allowed. He wanted more though, and wrapped his arms around her waist, hoisting her up and guiding her leg over so she was in his lap. A tiny voice in the back of his mind sniffed about appropriate behavior in a hospital and he told it to sod off as she peppered his jaw with kisses and carded her fingers through his blonde locks. Any lingering concerns about his extremities not working properly were now officially tossed out the window as he gripped her waist and claimed her lips again.

They were so enthralled with one another that neither heard the door open quietly.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” a dry greeting shocked them out of their passionate embrace and they turned sheepish faces towards Harry, who looked both highly amused and thoroughly exasperated. He stared pointedly between both of them before nodding once, spinning on his heel, and striding back to the door, his voice floating back to them as he left.

“It’s about time you woke up!”

**Author's Note:**

> This was a completely random, out-of-nowhere story that kind of took on a mind of its own! I hope you enjoy it <3


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